The Hon. Peter McGill had said at a loyalist meeting, “... the organization (to repel rebels), that it may combine both moral determination and physical force, must be military as well as political. There must be an army as well as a congress, there must be pikes and rifles as well as men and tongues.” The answer to these wise words, useful to either side as containing solid truth for each, was a miserable attention, an exhibition of incompetence on the rebel side towards that necessary military wing, and on the Governor’s side the answer was the removal of all the troops in the province. The one party was no longer the superior of the other; with the dreadful difference that there was unanimity on the loyalist side, as against jealousies and multiplicity of leadership on the other. It so happened that in the year ’34, partly in compensation to him for his expulsion from the House of Assembly, Mackenzie had been raised to the dignity of first Mayor of York, and, as in the words of his own rhyme, changed the name to the far better Canadian one of Toronto: “Come hither, come hither, my little dog Ponto, Let’s trot down and see where Little York’s gone to; For forty big Tories, assembled in junta, Have murdered poor Little York in the City of Toronto.” Calendars tell us that the pillory was abolished in ’37. When reading the life of Mackenzie one would imagine the statement a mistake, so popular did pillory methods seem. So far as unmerited obloquy, misrepresentation at home and abroad from those who pretended to despise and at heart feared him, personal insult, outrage, hard words, kicks from men who made up in inches what they lacked in justice, could constitute a pillory, Mackenzie had for years stood in it metaphorically, the old conditions being carried out faithfully, since practically it had been a punishment thought meet for authors and publishers of seditious pamphlets. A wise man has said: “Whereas before, our fathers had no other books but the score and tally, thou hast caused printing to be used; and contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper mill.” In certain cases, too, the persecution was unpopular, and the intended disgrace became a species of triumph. A public pillory and stocks were still part of the actual machinery of government in Little York, and unfortunately for his own good name Mackenzie celebrated Toronto’s first year by using the stocks and otherwise conducting himself in a way mortifying to his friends, most satisfactory to his enemies, and calculated to still further alienate those members of the Reform party to whom he seems to have been personally objectionable even when his mistakes of judgment did not run the length of seditious writing or putting women in the stocks.